Lactaphobia
by LMR
Summary: Yay! I finally finished! Sorry about the wait, guys, I had Disk Difficulties.
1. The Fear

Lactaphobia Disclaimer: I am not Tony Shaloub, which is too bad, 'cause he's cool. But the point is, I have nothing to do with the creation of Monkiness, and I get no money for any of it. :( "Hey, we're working on the milk. We're making good progress on the milk!" Sharona yelled defensively. But she didn't explain why. Acctually, she had told no one the story. So how it got here is beyond me. But here it is. *************************************************************** "It comes out of a cow," He said adamantly. "A COW." Sharona Shrugged. "So?" "The insides of a cow. I don't want to drink anything that came out of a cow. I think that's reasonable." "What's wrong with cows?" Sharona prodded. ;)~ Monk looked horrified. "They eat of the ground. And not regular ground," he clarified. "Ground that cows have been walking on." "No. I thought they hovered." He ignored the sarcasm. "And when you think about it, they're basically eating right from their toilet, I mean, when you really think about it." "Why do you think about it?" She asked. "You think about the stupidest things." "I don't drink bodily fluids, okay?" He said, as if that settled it for good. "You're disgusting." 


	2. The Milkman

The Milkman Disclaimer: I have just received word that I do not own Monk. This fanfiction is stained with my tears over this discovery. Oh, well.  
  
It is time for me, Dear Reader, to introduce the villain. Remember those annoying "Got Milk" commercials? (Of course you do, they were too annoying to forget.) Remember the milkman who came to the secret superhero meeting? Very cute commercial, but under that innocent facade was a dark tale. The milkman, frustrated his whole life finally lost his mind when his mother died a horrid, violent and prolonged death. He went cuckoo (or in psychological terms "nutters") and slaughtered an entire village of Tuscan Raiders. No, wait, that was Anikan Skywalker. Well, he went insane anyway. Make up your own story to explain why. And now he uses the power of milk for evil instead of good. (Don't ask me how.) Now you see why evil will always triumph. Because good is dumb. Milkman thought long and hard about what he should do now that he was an official Supervillain. That's easy. He has to kill the Superhero. Hmm. Are there any Superheroes in Los Angeles? He rifled through the rolodex of his mind for a Superhero that might be handy. (Milk is good for the bones, not necessarily the brain.) Spider-Man was in New York. Nah. Too far. Batman was in Gotham City. Where was that anyway? Superman is in Met- He paused, lost in thought. He had heard that name used somewhere. Right here in Los Angeles. Not REALLY Superman, but he remembered reading in a newspaper a quote from a police chief. Something about a consultant who was a "real Super- detective." Hmm. Sounds good.  
  
Wow. In one short chapter I used seven things that weren't mine. Don't sue. R&R, love. LMR 


	3. The Evil Plot

Lactaphobia 3 Disclaimer: Although my friend seems to think I AM Monk because of my tendency to count fence posts and straighten things all the time, the truth is, I'm not Monk. I really have no legal right to this story, but I put it here because I thought y'all might like it. R&R!  
  
Milkman knew exactly what to do with a Superhero. You don't just kill a Superhero, he knew. That was below a Supervillian. He had to torture Monk. But what could he do to distress the Superdectective? He had been observing Monk, and it looked like his life was already hell. Hmm. What would a bad guy do to Superman? (Not my invention) The answer came to him from reruns of Lois and Clark (Not mine either.). He would find Lois Lane, and when he did, Superman would be plenty distressed. And it was pretty obvious to Milkman who Monk's Lois Lane was. (Not even my metaphor). *********************************************************** Sharona passed Adrian a wet-nap just in time to save him from the handshake of death inflicted by Officer Bob Nobodyinparticular, who had just wiped his nose. "What is it officer?" All he had been told was that there was an unuasual murder. They headed to the apartment, talking. "The victim is 23 year old Heather Grady. We found her in her bathtub. It looks like she had been drowned, but we haven't confirmed that yet." Adrian looked confused. "You don't know? Are there any wounds?" "No." "Marks around the neck?" "No." "Hemmoraging behind the eyelids?" "No." "But she's in the bathtub?" They were at the room. "Right." "You're not sure that she was drowned." "Well, we haven't done an autopsy, so we don't really know." There were at the bathroom now. Monk looked into the tub. There was a woman there, covered by a sheet. She had curly blonde hair, that, to be perfectly honest, looked like a bad dye job. Monk pushed that thought out of his head. "Why'd you drain the water? There could've been evidence!" He was visibly annoyed. "The tub was empty when we got here." Now he seemed very confused. "Why would a murderer take the time to drain the tub?" "We don't know. That's why we called you in." Monk sniffed. "What's that smell?" 


	4. The Plot Goes Sour

Lactaphobia 4 Disclaimer: Did Dobby lead the reader to believe that I owned Monk??! Oh, Dobby is so bad! I must put my ears in the oven again. (A.N. to all non- Harry Potter fans (1) Why not? They're so wonderful. (2) Don't ask. It really makes no sense.) ************************************************************* The other cops sniffed the air. None of them smelled anything. Monk clarified. "It smells like. . ." His face squished up. "Rancid milk." He looked terrified. Sharona rushed to his side. "Are you all right? Breathe, Adrian." "What's going on?" Stottlemyer asked. "He's afraid of milk," Sharona told him, still helping Adrian breathe. Stottlemyer was dumbfounded. "Milk?" "Yes," Sharona snapped, a tad defensively. "He doesn't like to drink bodily fluids. I think that's reasonable." She paused. "I can't believe I just said that." "We walked past the kitchen as we came in. It wasn't coming from there.. The smell is from right here." Monk sniffed a little more. Finally, he picked up a strand of her curled hair in a gloved hand, smelled that. "There was no water in the tub because she wasn't drowned in water.. Ladies and gentlemen," One of the other detectives came into the bathroom with a full carton of milk from the victim's fridge. "I give you the murder weapon." "That's the murder weapon?" "Well, not that exact one. He drained the milk that he drowned her with." Monk looked thoughtful for a minute. "How long did the cororner say thiat she's been dead?" "About two hours, why?" "He's not only a murderer, he's a sadist, too. He drowned her in milk that was already sour." ************************************************************** "Three murders so far, same MO," Stottlemyer said out loud for the sake of the fanfiction readers. "We're pretty sure it's the same guy in all three cases." "Have you noticed the appearance of the victims?" "How's that.?" "They have a lot in common. The hair, for example, is almost identical.. Blue eyes in all three cases. Same features. Don't you find that odd?" "You know," Sharona spoke up. "They kinda look like.. . .well, me. You don't think he would come after me, do you, I mean, if he's looking for people who look like this?" Monk laughed as if it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. "Don't be ridiculous. You have nothing in common with these women. All three of them were uneducated, one of them was a street walker." Sharona smiled, reassured. "Besides," he continued, "These women were between the ages of nineteen and twenty seven. You're much, much older." Death glare.  
  
R&R! Love you! Stay 'Shippy! 


	5. The Letter

Lactaphobia 5 Disclaimer: I OWN MONK!!!! Also, I have Say the Opposite of What You Mean Disease. ***************************************************** Sharona knocked, then walked into the apartment. "I brought your mail in." She rifled through it, then paused at one particular envelope. The name and address were typed. There was no return address. She frowned, pensively. "That doesn't look good." She handed the letter to Monk. "Hey, Adrian, look at this." "Gee, my own mail, think I should?" He took the letter. He opened it and read. His eyes widened noticeably. Then he shrugged, folded it, and put it neatly in his pocket. "What was it?" "Nothing, just a letter from an old school chum." Sharona scowled. "You're a terrible liar, give me that letter." She reached for it, but Monk dodged. "Give it to me." Monk saw her serious expression, and, looking very distraught, even for Adrian Monk, relinquished the letter. Sharona gasped. The paper was covered in magazine clipped letters.  
  
Hello there, SuperCop, You like my work? Creative, isn't it? Pity they had to die, when you're the only one I want. You must feel so. . . what's the word. . . responsible for their deaths. But we won't dwell on that thought, seeing as this is a humor/romance fic, and we don't want it to get too angsty. (I hate angst fics, they just annoy me soooo much, I mean, it seems like all they ever are is teenagers being in love and afraid to say so, or teenagers being in love and one of them dies, and it's , like this whole big tragedy, so I hate it, but anyway, I should continue with my threatening letter.) They look so familiar, don't they? Surely someone as intelligent as you has noticed the resemblance. I thought it might make you nervous, was I right? Well, here's the bottom line: I'm watching you - I'm watching HER. Sometimes I watch through crosshairs. Get the picture, genius? I thought so. 


	6. Who's the Boss is More than a Sitcom fro...

Lactaphobia 6 Disclaimer: I do not own that Funky Monky. However, it should be noted that, as far as this fic goes, I am the one who makes him funky. A/N: Okay, okay, I get the point-longer chapters! I promise! ******************************************************* "Oh my God!" Sharona was white as a sheet. Adrian had walked to the desk in his apartment and picked up the phone. "What are you doing?" She asked, though she had an idea. "Calling Stottlemyer. I'm off this case." "Oh, no, you're not! I want you to catch this scumbag! You're the only one who can do that. He knows it. It's just a bluff, he's only trying to scare you." "Well, he's doing a good job." Monk started to dial. "No," Sharona said firmly. Adrian looked flabbergasted. "You are not the boss of me. In, fact, last time I checked, I was the boss of you!" Sharona rolled her eyes. "'The boss of me?' That sounds like something Benjy would say! Anyway, you've gotten threats from bad guys before, what's the big deal?" "I am - was a cop. If a criminal threatens ME, it's just part of the job, I can handle that. But I'm not about to put you and Benjy in danger. They'll manage this case without me." "Okay, boss business aside, I am begging you to stay on this case." She paused. "What would it take for you to change your mind?" He thought about that for a moment. "You and Benjy have to stay someplace safe until this whole thing is over with." "Won't Captain Stottlemyer take care of that?" "He would. Let's call him." Sharona gave him the look. "Okay, no help from the department." "Hey, don't you have a sister nearby." "Oh, no, I am NOT staying at Gail's. I'd rather let the Milkman have me!" "What about a hotel? Could you stay at a hotel?" "Hotels require money, Monk. How are we supposed to stay in a hotel when you never pay me?" By now, Monk's annoyance meter, which could only safely go to three point two, was at nine. "Alright you can stay at my apartment. I'll let you have the sofa." He acted as though this was the biggest sacrifice in the world. "I'm thrilled." Sharona was snapped out of her sarcasm by the ringing of the phone. Monk picked it up. "Hello? Yeah, just a minute." He handed the phone off. "Benjy." "Yeah?" She listened. "Are his parents gonna be there?" Pause. "Have you done your math homework? Yeah, fine. Don't forget to brush your teeth." "And floss!" Monk added loud enough to be heard on the other end. Sharona rolled her eyes. "Bye." She hung up the phone. "He's staying at Joey's." She looked down. "You don't think there's any way the Milkman knows where he's at. . ." she drifted. "No," Monk said firmly. "Honestly, I doubt it. I was just thinking about that. The Milkman started killing five days ago. I haven't seen Benjy for two weeks. I seriously doubt he even knows you have a son, and I'm certain he wouldn't know where to look for him." He paused before summing up. "He's safe." Sharona nodded. "If only the same could be said for me." "You'll be fine. My apartment has three locks, and - I thought you weren't afraid of the Milkman." "I'm not. You, on the other hand. . .You're scary." ********************************************************************* Better? Hope so. I know the whole thing about not turning the letter in is very unrealistic but. . . I don't care. How could I resist when an opportunity came up for a sleep-over???? (The story is still rated G). I don't want Stottlemyer in the story, no offense, but he's boring. And I really don't want Randy in the story. I just don't like him. I still don't care. Love you! ~LMR 


	7. The G rated Sleepover

Lactaphobia 7 Disclaimer: It tells everyone that Monk belongs to USA, or else It has some heck to pay. A/N: Yes, this story is actually going somewhere! Hey, I got a challenge for y'all. First one to tell me in what movie Stottlemyer could arrest himself gets a cookie! Just a little movie trivia for you. (Hint: I ikle asrcy vomies.) *********************************************************************** "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the sofa." Sharona shrugged. She was too tired to argue. "Whatever." She looked at the pillow. "Hey, Adrian. You didn't give me a pillowcase." "Didn't you bring your own?" Sharona placed one hand on her hip and gave a look of pure incredulity. "Normal people don't pack spare pillowcases. Just gimme one of yours. It's not like I'll get germs from it." "But then you will have used it, and then I can't use it." Sharona glared. "I'll BUY it from you, just gimme a pillowcase." "Here." He handed her one. "I don't like this one much." "Thanks." She looked at him as she took the pillowcase out of the baggie. "What's wrong?" He looked distressed. "Those girls. They died because of me. To threaten me." Sharona automatically forgot her annoyance over the pillowcase incident. She had always been the hugging type, and for less than a second, she reached up to do just that, but drew back instantly as a reflex. She patted his shoulder. "It's not your fault. He's a psycho. And he's only trying to scare you off the case - he knows you're the only one who can solve it. He probably heard you were involved and panicked." (Sharona Fleming, ladies and gentlemen, living proof that genius is not contagious). "No," He said quite firmly. "There was no case except for the women who look like you. All of his crimes have been threats. This guy has some problem with me. He said - you're the only one I want. But I can't figure out who he is. Everyone that I put in jail is still there. I can't think of anyone else who would have a grudge on me. Not enough of a grudge to kill three innocent women just to get to me." "What about the milk?" Sharona pondered. "What do you make of that?" "Well, either this guy has some special, emotional connection to milk, or, more likely, he knows me. He knows what I'm afraid of." "No offense, Adrian, but if he just wanted to use something you're afraid of to kill those women, he could have done just about anything. Why MILK? I think that first guess was right. He likes milk." "You have a point. I mean, he obviously has access to a good supply of it; or rather, a BAD supply of it." He paused, lost in thought. "There is nothing in the world that could make me TOUCH rancid milk. Nothing." "Yeah, well, we'll work on that one. In the mean time, you need to relax. I brought a movie." She pulled a copy of Thir13en Ghosts out of her bag. (It says that Thir13en Ghosts belongs to Dark Castle to make sure that there isn't any hastle). Adrian winced. "You LIKE that movie?" "Yeah, it's got that cute actor in it." ;) ******************************************************************** Make sure you let me know when you figure out what movie I'm talking about. R&R. Peace out. 


	8. Breakfast and Murder

Lactaphobia 8 Disclaimer: There will be no disclaimer on this chapter because Monk (who belongs to USA) is afraid of them. A/N: Warning: Major Fluffy Stupidity Ahead A/N (the sequel): Funniest thing, I tried to write a sex scene last night, but a strange virus invaded my computer. The only clue as to its origins were the letters CAFF. Weird. ******************************************************** Sharona fell asleep halfway through Thir13en Ghosts. No that it mattered; Adrian had ruined the twist ending five minutes into the movie. Monk didn't want to watch it (he didn't think that guy was at all good looking ;) ), so he covered Sharona with the throw blanket, pulled a strand of hair out of her face, and headed off to his room. When Sharona woke up in the morning, she smelled food. Hmm. Pancakes. Yummy. Was Benjy cooking? She opened her eyes and remembered where she was. "'Bout time. It's nearly ten o' clock," Adrian called from the kitchen. "I was just going to wake you up. Soup's on." "Soup? I wanted pancakes and eggs." "No eggs. I don't eat them." Sharona, sarcasm and all was awake. "Dare I ask why?" "They're little fetuses. It's just. . ." he shivered. "Yuck." "Adrian, a little advice: if you ever go on a date, heaven forbid, don't go to dinner." "I don't date." He put the pancakes on the table as Sharona. "I would never have guessed." She took a bite. "Mmm. Good." The phone rang, which was a darn good thing, because the poor fanfiction writer couldn't think of anything else for them to say. Adrian answered it. "Hello? Yes, Captain?" He nodded. "We'll be right there." He hung up. "There's been another one." He looked sickly pale. "In the floor right above us. All the bolts were cut. He could have just as easily come here." Sharona tried to be optimistic. "Well, that's good, right? It means he's not after us!" Adrian shook his head. "There was a note, written in newspaper clippings. 'I'm getting closer.'" "Oh my God." ************************************************************ They were upstairs in fifteen minutes. Before Sharona could say anything, Adrian had burst out, "Captain, I'm off this case." "Adrian, NO. We can solve this case, I mean, you can solve it." But Monk had already given Stottlemyer the letter. "Oh, this is just Precious." His sarcasm, Adrian noted, wasn't half as annoying as Sharona's. She should give him lessons. "Why didn't you turn this in?" "I was going to, I never - " "It was my fault," Sharona interjected. "I kinda, um, stole it." Stottlemyer looked incredulous. "Sharona, this is important evidence. You realize you could go to jail for withholding it." "It really was my fault, Captain, I shouldn't have let her see it, I should have come straight to you, I'm sorry." "No, I'm the one who took it." They were now talking simultaneously, completely ignoring the captain, who rolled his eyes in annoyance. Randy and Nobodyinparticular were trying to place bets on who would win this particular skirmish, but couldn't get any off the ground as neither seemed willing to bet that Adrian would win ANYTHING against Sharona. "STOP IT!" All the characters snapped to attention. "Who said that?" Andy asked. "Good grief, people," LMR said. "I wrote it, it's my fault! Just stop yelling, you're giving me a headache, and I've got midterms coming up!" There were mumbles of "Sorry" all around the room. Three sorrys, none of which had a New York accent. "Where's Sharona?" Monk asked. "Help!" Sharona screamed as she was dragged off by the Milkman. "Yoink !" The Milkman called. "D'oh!" LMR said, sitting at her computer. *********************************************************** A/N: OMG!!! I feel so guilty! If it weren't for me distracting them, Milkman could never have caught Sharona! Can you ever forgive me??????? I know I can fix it! Promise! 


	9. The Lair of Milkman

Lactaphobia 9 Disclaimer: Narf! Say, Brain, do we own Monk? No, Pinky, USA does. But we will after tonight! Why, what are we going to do tongight, Brain? The same thing we do every night Pinky, try to take over the world! A/N: Hmm. My anagrams are showing. Has anybody solved the trivia yet? ********************************************************************** "Stay here, Monk!" Stottlemyer called as he ran after Milkman and the hostage Sharona. The three cops rushed to the front of the building and got into their cars. Sirens blaring and lights flashing, they headed after a milktruck. After they were gone, Milkman laughed, his hand over Sharona's mouth, and slunk (Yes, slunk) into his secret lair under Monk's building. (Convienient, huh?) Alone in the bathroom (unless you count the corpse, but you know what they say, a corpse is a corpse, of course, of course), Adrian paced. He was worried about Sharona, naturally, but he couldn't see anything he could do about it. As he did when he was nervous, Monk pulled his keychain, or rather Trudy's, out of his pocket and began twirling it around on his finger. Maybe it was gravity. Maybe it was a fanfiction writer pulling a ham- handed segway. Or maybe it was Trudy. Much like the tootsie roll question - the world may never know. But the keys landed right in the tub. "Eeew." Had it not been Trudy's keychain, Adrian would have seriously considered leaving it there. As it was, he went to the tub to find it. But it wasn't on top of the body. It was under her head, at the drain. He was just pondering how that could happen when he noticed something odd. Light. Light coming from under the tub. Weird. This was the bottom floor. Even if there was some kind of seriously messed up plumbing problem, there still shouldn't have been light under this particular tub. He looked as far as he could into the drain. There was still a pipe there, but it went straight down. It opened over what looked like a big vat. A big vat full of something white. And suddenly, Adrian knew where the Milkman, and more importantly, Sharona was. " Monk rushed to the secret lair of the Milkman. "Sharona!" "I'm over here, Adrian. Be careful!" "I'll get you out of here." He turned to the villian. "So, we meet for the first time for the last time," He challenged him. "Huh?" Adrian sighed. "It was a joke. Haven't you ever seen Spaceballs" (Space-) "We, know, we know - " "It doesn't belong to you," All three said in unison, wishing LMR would just butt out. Monk was especially annoyed. It was her fault Sharona was in this mess, and knowing her, she would try to put a romantic subplot in the story. ;) "Why?" Monk asked. "Why did you kill them? Why are you doing this to Sharona? It's obviously me you want." "And what better way to make you suffer," Milkman said, relishing the thought. "Why? Do I even know you?" "No. I'm just doing what a Supervillain is supposed to do. Don't take it personal. It's just my job, making Superheros miserable." "I'm not a Superhero." "Only because you don't believe in yourself. Everyone else thinks you are. Of course, after I'm through with you, you will never think that you're a hero." And with that, he threw Sharona into the vat of bad milk. "Sharona!" ************************************************************** Muahahahaha! 'K I love you, bye bye! 


	10. Have Yourself a Happy Little Ending, or ...

Lactaphobia 10 Disclaimer: The other chapters all belonged to USA, but I'm sick of it, you hear me, sick of it. This chapter is MINE, all mine! Muahahahaha!!!!! A/N: Sorry about that - The villain got a hold of the disclaimer. Also sorry about the misspellings in the last chapter. (Big fat 'duh' on my part!). And again, I'm really sorry about the format. I recommend transferring it to a word document. That should restore it to the way it looks on my computer, which is fine, honest! Try to read it anyway. Love you~ LMR *************************************************************** Monk did not think twice. He remembered from a conversation they'd had a few months ago that Sharona couldn't swim. The vat was about twenty feet deep. He jumped in. (EEEEEWWWWW!) By the time he had gotten to her, she'd fallen below the surface. He reached for her, but she was far below his grasp. With a groan, he dived down into the water, and floundered around, almost reaching the bottom. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt an arm. It seemed lifeless, deadweight. He pulled, and after several failed attempts, managed to reach the surface. His lungs were burning, and he didn't know how much longer he could remain conscious. Muscles he didn't know he had were aching. He knew Sharona wasn't very heavy, but she felt like a lead weight trying to drag her to the top of the tank. They broke the white surface, Adrian gasping for air, and Sharona. . . Sharona not breathing. The realization hit Adrian in an instant, and his heart stopped with fear. He pulled her to the edge of the tank and laid her on the floor of Milkman's lair. Monk, with his all but infinite knowledge, knew how to give artificial respiration. The thought of it, however, made him want to be sick. All those germs. Fortunately, he had never had to. But there was no one here. He was the only one who could save Sharona. But the milk! So strong was Adrian's phobia that the milk actually felt like fire as he sealed his lips around hers tentatively and started rescue breathing. He had given her three breaths when she started coughing. He took Sharona's cell phone from her side and called Stottlemyer, telling him which way the Milkman had gone. He took a wet - nap out of Sharon's purse, and started to wipe his face, covered with disgusting milk. Fortunately, he had his toothpaste and toothbrush (and backup toothbrushes, and backup bristles for the backup toothbrushes) with him. He brushed furiously, keeping an eye on Sharona. She was conscious, but not really "all there." When he was finished (exactly three minutes later), he went to her with another wet - nap and cleaned off her face and lips. "Mmmmmffff." She said Her eyes were still closed. "I was going to ask what hero saved my life, but seeing as I smell antiseptic, I don't think I need to." She smiled. "What happened, anyway? It's a little blurry." She paused. "Hey, do you have one of your backup toothbrushes." She took it gratefully, the taste of bad milk nearly making her sick. Adrian shrugged. "He tried to drown you." He brushed it off as if it were no big deal. "I pulled you up." Sharona was fully awake now. "Out of the milk? That milk?" She could barely believe it. "I had to. You might have. . ." He drifted off, not wanting to say it. "I don't remember that." Adrian twitched. "You were blacked out. You weren't breathing." Sharona was dumbfounded. "I was. . . you mean YOU. . ." A broad grin spread across her face. "I'm so proud of you, Boss!" Before she could stop herself, she grabbed his face and kissed him lightly on the lips. (A/N: Take that, Monica!) "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that!" She fumbled for a wet - nap. He made a dismissive motion with his hand. "It's alright. I have come to the conclusion that you are cootie - free. Big, bad sarcasm came out to play. "Gee, thanks, Boss." Adrian spread his arms wide. "That was a compliment!" "For a five - year - old, maybe!" She retorted. "Benjy is past the cooties phase!" Monk held his chin up. "Well, I'm not." Sharona rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She looped her hand in his arm, delicately, so as not to actually touch him. "Let's go tell Stottlemyer about the heroic deeds of Monk." Adrian laughed. "I wouldn't say heroic." Sharona turned to face him, a look of utter solemnity on her face. "I would." ***************************************************************** So there it is! Please R&R! I love you guys! By the way, in the unbelievably wonderful film The Silence of the Lambs (Skip the sequel), Ted Levine plays Jame Gumb, the serial killer Buffalo Bill. He is amazing in such a challenging and just plain disturbing role. He is almost unrecognizable. I highly reccomend that all Monk fnas go see this movie! 


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